


No Me Importa

by WhiteRoseOfRivendell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Capture, F/M, Ketchacabra - Freeform, chupacabra, dark themes, some dub-con elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 11:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16218434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteRoseOfRivendell/pseuds/WhiteRoseOfRivendell
Summary: He was caught, and at the moment, there was no foreseeable way out. Perhaps this monster who trapped him here was only trying to stem the loneliness of a life not asked for. But he did not care. He could not care.That resolve only lasted a few months, for that was the amount of time he could keep his mind his own. After that, she found her way in. It was said that once a Chupacabra finds their way into your mind, there is no return from it. That is why they are so good at hunting. They fall victim to the psychic invasion and practically roll over when one approaches.Ketch would not roll over so easily.





	No Me Importa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DavidHaydnJones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DavidHaydnJones/gifts).



[](http://s345.photobucket.com/user/WhiteRose1013/media/3E8286E1-93C7-4EFD-9E24-2A6EF813D1C6_zpsg3ooct4a.jpeg.html)

It didn’t occur to me then, but not caring was the one thing that I could do well, at least outwardly. I was an expert at hiding. I reveled in the fact that at any given moment, I could make everyone in the room believe I was who they saw in front of them. And they ate it up with a fork and knife. I hadn’t meant to be smug about it, you see, at least not at first. But it came as naturally as moss to a tree. After a time, I found that I could not help myself and I gave in to the cycle. The more apathetic I was, the less I was questioned. The less I was questioned, the more smug I became. The more smug I became, the more I had to hide my lesser emotions. The more I hid them, the less I cared, and the less I cared, the more valuable I was without question. It was the perfect countenance for my chosen profession. The rest of my skills were honed in time and I was able to acquire other things that I could do very well, which were partially owed to the proficiency of the aforementioned. 

This is what landed me on the mission to Puerto Rico in the first place.

I was chosen to be the British Men of Letters’ ambassador and liaison to the local chapter. Travel, much like it is now, was not a bother for me. I took the job, thinking that accomplishing the task would undoubtedly dispel any remaining questions that my superiors had as to the nature of my character and ability. Perhaps then I could begin to be free of the ever-present apathy linking my thoughts. It seems like a joke now to even say such a thing. Apathy is not an easily thwarted house guest.

Moving on.

When I arrived in country, a driver was there to greet me. His name was Juan Carlos. I am not sure why I remember that. Anyway, it is of no importance. I was taken to their headquarters where I was immediately briefed about the mission. You see, the American government, in all its wisdom, decided to fund an experiment, not on home soil, of course. They had built a compound near a rural town and had begun experimenting with DNA from animals they had collected from the rainforest. That much was known, even to the locals. What was not known was that they had captured a creature that had been mutilating livestock in the area, specifically entire herds of goats. El Cupacabra, or so they called it. In Spanish, it means “Goat Sucker”. The myth surrounding the creatures identified them as small and reptilian-like, with large eyes and spikes running down their backs. They were rumored to be quick, elusive, and dangerous.

Long story short, the experiments were a success. They learned how to combine human DNA with Chupacabra DNA, thus creating a hybrid species. It became the whole focus of the lab.The trouble was, in their excitement, they never thought to study the Chupacabra before they started experimenting. They thought that they could train this new species, use them as enforcers. Weapons. But they soon found out that they could not be trained. Not only that, but they were much stronger and smarter than they had anticipated. However, their most egregious mistake in not researching their subject first was not knowing the power they had over the mind. 

Chupacabras can control the minds of their prey. That is what makes them such deadly hunters. Goats, chickens, cows, they all have relatively simple minds, which is why they are so easily downed. That is also why Chupacabras are rarely captured. The farmers report little to no sound made by the animals before their demise. The hybrids used this power to overcome security and escape the compound. They vanished without a trace. However, not long after the incident, people began to go missing.

Armed with this knowledge, I went into the El Yunque rainforest with a team of three other men. The mission was simple: find the colony of hybrids and make all traces of them disappear. Not the most daunting of tasks, or so I thought. We searched for three days. On the evening of the second day, I had become aware that we were not the only ones hunting. I kept on edge so as not to fall victim to one of the creatures. I knew that Chupacabras normally did not attack humans, but these hybrids were different. Regardless, we were being hunted and it was somewhat unsettling.

On the fourth day, we were finally ambushed. I say finally because I had been waiting for two days for the hunters to make a move on us. The other three men were killed immediately, their bodies being drained of blood. I am not sure why I was the one chosen to be captured. Perhaps my blood type was not to their liking. Or perhaps, more unfortunately for me, it was to the liking of one of them in particular.

They took me to their colony where I was brought before their alpha female, the Matriarch. Apparently, their species is female driven, not unlike honeybees. The Matriarch is the one who gives the orders, makes decisions, and is responsible for procreation. The females also tend to be quite aggressive. When I was brought before her, I was prepared to kneel, but was promptly thrown to the ground and obliged to stay there. She circled me slowly and I could hear her long tongue unfurling from her mouth as she identified my scent. My captors had done this previously and while it was not welcome, I figured there were much worse things that they could be doing to me.

After a moment, I attempted to speak. I had hoped to be able to talk my way out of the situation, as I often did. Before I could get more than a few words out, the Matriarch pressed her clawed foot to the back of my neck and let out a loud keening noise. I did my best not to react, but it was ear-splitting. The weight of her came down upon me as she crouched onto my back and pushed my head further into the dirt. Then suddenly, she was gone. I was bound and taken to a chamber carved into the side of a hill. Their dwellings, I learned, were spectacularly camouflaged. I doubt most could tell I was hidden away but for the guard at the door. I was once again unceremoniously thrown to the ground, hitting my already sore back into the stone wall of the dark cave.

I was caught, definitely outnumbered, and in unfamiliar terrain. The disadvantage was great, but at this point, I did not care. I forced the apathy to rise and the apprehension to disperse.Once incarcerated, I checked all points of exit, observed the guard for weaknesses, and steeled myself against the impending torture. I knew better than to think they would leave me alone to die.

I don’t know that I have ever been less thrilled to be right in all my life.

Shortly after my imprisonment, she began her visits. At first, it seemed as if she only wanted to train me to be her man-servant. She would motion for something and if I did not comply, I was punished. Most times, it was a slash of her claws across my back, others perhaps a bite. She never took too much blood though. I knew she wasn’t doing it to eat. It was to dominate.The way I knew was that soon she began to reach. I’ve said before that the Chupacabras have the ability to control the minds of their victims. They call it reaching, and I don’t recommend experiencing it if at all possible. 

The first time she reached into me, it was like a knife materializing in my head. I was paralyzed. I fought her as hard as I could, trying desperately to keep her out of my mind. Eventually, she gave up, choosing instead to stand over me as another hybrid beat me bloody. They took my clothes, leaving me lying naked and bruised on the floor. She left me with one final thought that intruded upon my mind like a sliver under skin, ‘You will learn.’

Learn I did. I learned to obey lest I be punished. I learned that I was to submit and maintain my submission at all times. I also learned that pain is a fluid and fickle means of instruction. 

How happy it was to have those moments of teaching. For through them, I learned the true depth of my strength, and how far my apathy would take me. 

However, that was not all. Through reaching, there were many more useful things brought to my attention than merely my instruction. I learned that these creatures had escaped their imprisonment because of the torture they were forced to endure. They hid, knowing they would be hunted. I learned that the Matriarch lead them into the rainforest and kept them organized, self-sufficient, and away from human eyes. I learned that reaching did not have to be as painful as I first thought. The voice of the Matriarch could be gentle when she wanted, and she used this against me. She would tell me stories, let me know a bit about herself or the tribe. Then the training would continue. There were only short reprieves before it all began anew. I was made to grovel at her feet, privately and publicly. I would serve her day and night, hardly allowed to sleep nor eat. I could feel myself weakening as the weeks passed, but I did not allow that fact past the inner reaches of my mind. 

As soon as she felt I was ready, a vine was tied around my neck like a collar and leash. I was lead around by her, and only her, as a trophy to be admired. I endured it, but I hated every moment. Outwardly, I showed only indifference. Of course I did, because that is what I am good at. She did not see that I cared because I did not want her to. And that is where I found my strength. In the beginning, I was able to muster the full extent of my apathy. In that glorious time, I even convinced myself that I did not care, that this was only temporary. But regrettably, my resolve weakened. After six months of groveling, serving, and pretending to cower in the back of my chamber, I broke.

I remember the night it happened. The Matriarch entered my chamber, as she always did. She reached for me, gently at first, and pushed a thought into my mind. I cannot describe what I saw. Suffice it to say that she made it clear that she was now interested in me providing a different kind of service, or rather, my body. I shut her out immediately, knowing I would be disciplined yet too repulsed to care.Angered, she reached back more forcefully. It was not a request, it was an invasion. She flooded my mind. I came to understand that her body was ready to mate. As it was her duty to keep her species going, she had become a slave to her instincts. I must say, I did not know how to feel about it after gaining this knowledge. A part of me understood her reasoning and that this whole time she had been grooming me to become her mate. The other side of that coin was that she had kept me imprisoned for months and striped me of my humanity. 

I did not want to have anything to do with her, but there seemed to be no other option. She was quite insistent. The prospect of mating brought about a feeling that I had not experienced in a long time, anxiety. Fear soon began to mix with it and I found myself struggling to keep control. As she advanced upon me, my broken, blood-stained, dirt ridden body lay in a heap by the wall. I began to cower further and submit, as I had been trained to do. Then something within me changed, like a switch being turned off. I came to attention, brought about every feeling within me, and tamped it all down. I decided not to care any more.The apathy would no longer be confined in my outward appearance, it would consume me. It was the most comforting thing I could have done. The apathy in the face of danger and ruin was a marvelous solace, like an old friend returning home. It gave me a new resolve to survive and, if possible, devise a plan of escape. The outside world no longer mattered, only the means to the end that I would choose. I would do what she asked. I would play the game, and as always, no matter the outcome, I would win.

I entered willingly into this unnatural relationship. The benefit at the time outweighing the risks. I felt that if I could stay alive and gain more of her trust, I would be able to find a weakness that I had not previously discovered. I would then utilize it to make my escape. However... the best laid plans, and all that. I will not repulse you with the details of what happened between us, but I will say that it was something that I wish I could, but never will, forget. Beyond the physical, my mind was merged in a profound way with hers, and it took over. The half of her that was Chupacabra twisted itself into my psyche. I felt animalistic, feral even. I assumed at the time that this was the way for Chupacabras. It would make sense for the male to become more protective of the alpha female. Chupacabras, like humans, only have one offspring at a time, so it would be very much necessary to protect her and the baby...

I will not speak further of that either.

Moving on.

The Men of Letters were out there, and they knew where I was. I was later informed that a couple of teams had been sent to recover me, but all had not returned. Apparently, up until almost a year after I was captured, I was not worth risking the lives of experienced men. It was my fault for overestimating my position, I suppose. The want of emotions clouded my judgement. That was a mistake that I would not allow to repeat. 

Nonetheless, suddenly I was needed. No explanation, of course. 

One day, I was pulled out of my chamber. They returned my soiled and tattered clothes, bound my hands, and walked me by my leash out to a clearing. I had no idea what to expect, so I remained alert in the event of a threat. Seeing my comrade with a PRMOL in tow barely registered in my mind. The Matriarch still had a hold on me and the walls I had put up were completely in tact. Only they had changed to keep out everything but my mate and the tribe. I saw my fellow Men of Letters as intruders. They were not a part of the pack and so when Mick went to release me from my bonds, I bristled. It took everything I had not to snap at the hand that reached out for my collar. I growled at Mick and his companion, but the Matriarch held me fast. The man retreated. If I had been able to be grateful, I’m sure I would have been. Mick was someone I was always very fond of. 

They took me then. The Matriarch severed her bond, the reaches of her mind receding like waters from the shore. I was disoriented. In the moments after my release, there was almost a sense of betrayal. Of course, the reality of my freedom began to set in as the rest of the pack disappeared into the trees. All aggression faded. There was no more reaching. 

As I looked back one last time, She was the last thing I saw. Her face was clouded, almost sad. 

I was hauled away before I could even think on it. 

I have always had the ability not to feel, but I believe that I left the ability to do so in that rainforest. And that is why, Mary, that you are not, and never will be, a part of my life. However, I believe that if I was to be able to feel again that you would be the object of my affection. That is why this letter will never reach you. It is not only that I cannot allow such information to become public, nor that I fear rejection, I simply do not care, and never will. The part of my life where apathy was a choice is now long gone. Even objectively, I can see that is not a fate you would see as acceptable... and I believe that you deserve better. So it is here that I leave you.

Respectfully Yours,

Ketch

***

**Arthur Ketch held the pieces of paper in his hands and convinced himself that the watery smudges dotted along their surface were the work of sweaty palms and tired fingers. He could not fathom why, in the midst of a war between worlds, he had chosen to write it. Perhaps it was because of his impending departure, perhaps it was because Mary was now surrounded by people who could actually care for her. However, deep down in the bowels of honesty, it was because he knew he was a monster...**

****

**...and he couldn’t fucking care.**

****

**The British Man of Letters got up and walked slowly toward the fireplace where flames licked eagerly at the iron screen. He dropped the letter inside and watched the edges of the paper curl in on themselves as white turned to black, and then to ash. The heat of the fire hit him and buffeted his senses. For that reason alone, did his eyes shine with tears. He breathed in deeply and exhaled with body-wracking force. It should be noted here how sweet the air was in the cozy room, tucked away in the sprawling bunker. Yet in all its honeyed ambiance, it would not be enough to keep him. For his back had already turned, the walls within his mind restored. The beat of heavy footfalls complimented the melody of well-fed flames, and Arthur Ketch walked away stoically as the sentiments burned.**

****

****

[](http://s345.photobucket.com/user/WhiteRose1013/media/4B409FE5-F989-414B-ADE0-8DA481B098B8_zpsnikzeo3t.jpeg.html)

**Author's Note:**

> In the beginning, Ketch’s apathy was a way for him to feel powerful & in control of his life. By controlling exactly what others saw, he felt a power that he had never felt as a young man. Having this ability also opened doors for his career. This made him feel successful as well. This was important to a young, ambitious Ketch. He did not yet realize what he was doing by allowing himself to fall into this cycle, as he calls it. It was a means to an end.
> 
> Later, he begins to realize that should he wish to reverse the effects of this path, it may be more difficult than he imagined. It can be exhausting keeping the walls up. It can be lonely without strong relationships/friendships. He is now in a place of power and wants to be able to let go of some of that cycle. That is why he takes the mission to begin with.
> 
> The apathy then changes to become a way of survival. Ketch uses it to steel himself against his situation & remain hopeful for escape. But the “training” he receives ends in a broken man. It is not the broken most people would think. He begins to slide into the emotional wreckage that often accompanies these types of situations.However, this is Ketch. Instead breaking down, he breaks in perhaps a much more damaging way. The apathy that he has been playing at and using as a tool now consumes him. He can now use it in much the same way as he had when he was first captured, but without incurring more mental damage. The world has now become irrelevant to him unless it is of some use, some personal advantage. Thus his sociopathy begin.
> 
> In the end, what I would like you, the reader, to understand is that this is an exercise in character development. We all know that Ketch is kind of a sociopath, but I believe there is a definite backstory to that, as well as an element of regret. In this fic, he ultimately chooses the path of sociopathy. His experiences leave him thinking that at first he needs the apathy to succeed. Then it is used as a defense. This then leads him to allow it to become a large part of him. What Ketch does not understand is that he is feeling and he does care. That part of him was not lost to the rainforest. There is good in Arthur Ketch, if only he would allow himself to see it.


End file.
